Confessions of a Tomboy
by Beatles-Forever-and-ever
Summary: Who hasn't had a turn in the limelight? Smart girls! Dumb girls! God boys! bad boys! Poor boys! even rich boy Malfoy! But what about the tomboys! Won't somebody please think of the Tomboy's!


CONFESSIONS OF A TOMBOY.

Chapter one: Meeting Mad Eye, well, kinda.

My name is Jessica Michelle Black, Jessie for short. And I live in a small town called Godrics Hollow. Godrics Hollow is the kind of town where everybody knows everybody else's business – wether the business is true or not.

Our local gossip was one Miss. Jacqueline George. An older woman who lived across the road from us in a mournful looking brick house. She never married; when I was younger she would tell me outrageous and exciting stories of engagements to bandits who were hung or pirates who's boat sunk before they had a chance to marry.

Now though, the pirate and the bandits and whoever else was engaged to Miss. George had been replaced by her grumpy older brother Ace, who spent most days telling us neighbourhood children to stop our 'gallivanting about'. He also had a large, teeth bearing, drooling bull dog that stood at his side.

Kids used to play a game of getting near enough to the house to touch the side while Ace and 'The sergeant' were surveying the neighbourhood much like a general surveys a battlefield. Rumour had it Ace kept old relic guns from his time at war…still loaded.

Another neighbour was Old Widow Figg, she had cats that would roam the neighbourhood and scratch your arms and legs. She loved those cats. Everyone else was a bit less fond of them. Before he had died Mr. Figg had given his wife two cats, two cats that breed like rabbits. No one dreamt of telling her to get rid of them, they were all she had left of her husband; we just nursed the cuts and went on with life.

She was old and her children had flown the coop as soon as they saw the chance. One came back every Christmas though, and as my friend Harry so kindly put it he was 'the meanest man to ever draw a breath on gods green earth' what I thought of him was along those lines, but my parents would have had a fit if I used such words.

The others who inhabited our street were mostly family's like Dad,Mum and I and Harry, James and Lily Potter.

Harry and were somewhat of leaders of the younger children, who were given hell by the older ones.

Although I constantly had to prove that being a girls didn't mean sunshine, lollypops and rainbows.

Severus Snape jr. was the leader of the older children, or the band of merry Pricks as we dubbed them. Narcissus and his father looked alike: greasy black hair, lifeless black eyes and the most infamous sneer in Great Britain.

Severus Snape jr. was two years older than me and he terrorised the younger children in the neighbourhood, his younger brother could often be mistaken for his shadow.

Narcissus Snape was the same age as me, eight. Although he was a month older than me I could beat him up if he started his taunting from what he though was a safe tree to hide in.

My mother, Anna, would often tell me it was unladylike to get into fights.

And to wear scruffy jeans.

_AND _to always wear a baseball cap over my mop of black hair that was always pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Chewing and popping gum too, was considered in her opinion an unimaginable thing for girls to do.

She was a bit upset that I turned out the way I did, always messing around with the guys instead of sitting around having a tea party with other girls in dresses and their stuffed animals.

That experience would be traumatic and painful for my part.

So I told her so.

Dad had to save me. He told her it was just a phase I was going through. Dad seemed to love the way I had turned out, he had three girls in the house with mum, my younger sister Rhia and I. I think he needed someone to play Quidditch with while Rhia and mum drank air from teacups.

Not that Rhia did that anymore being twelve and all. But I do have vivid memories of her doing so.

My father, Sirius, was an Auror with my Uncle James who lived next door to us. When they had a bit too much whisky they would dramatically recount the week's events on a Friday night.

I don't know were this story starts. Harry told me to start it with our first tangle with a Death Eater. Slater says it started when Voldemort came into power. But I don't know what happened way back then. I think though it started for me with the first glimpse of a neighbourhood ledgend.Besides, I think Mr. Moody deserves a mention, so my story starts with our first encounter with a certain Ex-Auror.

Everyone said he was off his rocker. We would see him limping pat our house every morning and every night. Kids would stop their games and retreat indoors. Whenever I was on our lawn I would scamper up into my treehouse and watch until his curses and growling had shuffled down the street and out of sight.

Stories about him were handed down like sacred, stone tablets among us kids. He was like a real-life urban ledged, even if everything about him was exaggerated by about one million times.

They said that he took children in the night when food was running low. He had one eye; the other was a festering hole, with blood forever dripping from it. He had been killed by Voldemort but he had been spat back out by hell itself (A/N Pirates Of the Caribbean moment) and The Devil had wrenched out his right eye for a souvenir.

I woke up on a chilly winter mourning. Well, not quite winter yet, it was not considered winter until snow had carpeted the ground.

Dad was scanning the morning paper and Rhia was still M.I.A, buried in her blankets with an unimaginable amount of Justin Timberlake posters.

'Hey Dad' I greeted as I plonked myself down in the kitchen.

Dad grunted in acknowledgment, he never really was a morning person.

'Jessica Michelle Black' my mother said irritably as she bristled into the kitchen with breakfast.

I winced; the full name was _not good_.

'Yeah, Mum?' I asked trying to sound casual.

'Must you insist on wearing those filthy jeans everyday?'

I sighed in relief, the jean thing was easy to handle.

'What do ya want me to do, Mum? I asked 'Climb trees and play sport in a dress?'

My father snorted into his mourning coffee, not a pleasant sight truth be told.

'Well, must be off!' Dad exclaimed as Mum turned her wrath onto him. Kissing her on the cheek and heading out the door, he paused to wait for me, I always walked with him to the corner, but I didn't dare go past Mad Eye's place.

'Be back for lunch' I called to Mum over my shoulder, grabbing a piece of toast for the road.

Retreating from the disapproving glares of my mother we walked to the usual farewell point.

Dad turned to me and ruffled my hair 'I personally like your jeans' he told me.

I grinned at him 'See ya, Dad' I said before running over to the regular group of kids who gathered under the old willow tree in the middle of the street every morning.

Harry was already there, Harry Potter and I had been best friends since I can remember.

Our dad's were best friends and our Mum's were best friends, it only seemed natural for us to be too.

Greeting me with his usual lop-sided smile I sat down beside him, leaning up against the tree with my knees up and legs apart, not very ladylike.

It was holidays so most kids were away with family; only five kids besides me had assembled at the tree base. Harry's little sister Rebecca had tagged along like she always did.

She greeted me enthusiastically and shifted away from Harry and towards me, I ruffled her hair in the same way my father had done to me a few minutes ago.

'How's it, Becca?' I asked the five year old.

'Cool' She replied happily, her own over-sized baseball cap, I think I had given it to her actually, fell over her eyes and she shoved it back up again.

I had turned her to the 'boy side' as Auntie Lily had declared hopelessly one day.

I kind of felt bad about it, Uncle James had Harry, Dad had me and Mum had Rhia it didn't seem all that fair to me.

But I suppose that Rhia didn't have much to do with mum anymore, she was always on the phone, sending owls, reading girly magazines on how to look like Briteny Spears or other assorted 'girl stuff'.

The Weasley twins also were there, although their little brother was the same age as us and they weren't, Little Ron Weasley followed his older brother Percy around like a lost puppy, hanging on his every word and obeying his every request, it made the twins quite sick.

The last person was Slater O'Malley. When Slater was six, he had decided one summer day to march over to me and inform me that one-day he was planning on marrying me.

Once I recovered from the shock I had proceeded to give him a swift kick between the legs.

He was persistent though; I'll give him that. He had asked me a record number of six times before he marched up once more and promptly kissed me in front of Rhia, who had run home to inform Dad that a boy was 'Eating Jessie's face' while I stood in too much a state of shock to move.

He then declared that he'd ask everyday until I said yes.

We have now been engaged two solid years. Stealing swift kisses up in my treehouse and meetings between our eyes and hands on the street.

Slater inconspicuously slid close beside me and I lent against his shoulder.

And although I would rather snog Snape Sr. than admit it: Slater wasn't too bad on the eyes. He had a messy mop of brown hair with natural strikes of blonde and curious brown eyes. I wasn't the type to fawn over guys like my older sister Rhia; in fact I was the opposite, but I had to admit marrying him wouldn't mean death to the world.

Rebecca glared at him, she didn't like sharing me. Hell, I couldn't help it that she practically worshipped me!

'What we going to do?' George asked. I could tell it was George because he had a small scar of his cheek, whereas Fred didn't.

Everyone shrugged and lazed in boredom, exchanging jokes and good-natured digs until Harry had a brainstorm. He was the one who came up with the stuff to do when we were sick of sport or had too little people for it.

'I got an idea'

He grinned and looked round at everybody, who looked on in anticipation and baited breath.

'Bet ya a Quid you wouldn't run up and bang on Mad Eye's door'

There was a kind of shocked silence. None of us had ever even suggested going past the old gate. If we ever had to walk past it any kid be they five or fifteen would break out into a panicked run and not stop until they came to were they were walking to.

'You're crazy' Fred stated.

'Off his rocker'

'Bloody barmy'

'Dropped on his head as a child'

'Must be on crack or else-'

'Scared?' Harry challenged. He was looking straight at me, hoping to get me to take the bait. I was the one most likely to; never turned down a dare always jumping to defend my pride with a few well-aimed slugs I was the toughest girl east side of Godrics Hollow.

Pulling myself from the ground I walked in determined strides towards 'The Mad house' as kids called it when they tried to get stones through the windows from the street.

The others gathered behind me hissing discouragements and we hid behind the messy turrets of hedges. Peering over for a good look. A path riddled with runaway weeds and broken up by stray roots wound it's way to the veranda.

'You're as crazy as he is' George muttered, his eyes transfixed on the screen door that banged in the wind.

'Can't get through there' Slater said 'He'd see ya from the house'

'Could hide behind the trees' Harry suggested.

Trees sprouted up everywhere in the yard, although they were thin and dead so they were of no use for hiding.

We all jumped as a branch whipped the side of the house and the door banged extra loud.

'It's frikin' suicide' Fred said simply 'you can't go'

'I'm gonna' I said stubbornly.

My legs felt like jelly but I wasn't going to back down. I took a deep breath and vaulted over the fence.

'I take it back' I heard George say 'She's crazier than you, Harry'

I felt a surge of pride at that remark. But it was cut short when I nearly fainted at a rustle in the bushes. My eyes pleaded with the shaking bush and I pressed my back against the nearest tree.

A garbage-draped cat emerged from it and I cursed Mrs. Figg silently for about the billionth time.

Slinking across the dead leaves that still littered the ground, my heart threatened to burst from my chest at every sound.

Coming to the old veranda I made a split decision to make a sprint for it.

Breaking out into a panicked run I skidded to a halt at the door.

When I raised my fist at bang on the screen door is when I received the biggest shock of my life, it was also one of the only times I screamed, something that shames me to this day.

I think if I had snuck up on the door I would have heard the wheezing breathing, but as it was all I heard was my heart and feet pounding.

Eyes stared through the thin screen. My mind traveled back to late night discussions with friends up in my treehouse.

'_Eyes that glow red whenever he has a taste for blood!'_ Slater had told me, a flashlight underneath his chin and his eyes wide.

Stumbling backwards I fell to the ground and crawled backwards, my eyes still fearful and glued to the door as it slowly creaked open.

It was at that moment I screamed. A high-pitched, fearful, girlish scream I am afraid to say.

'What ye be wantin', Lassie?' a gruff voice asked, it sounded as if the speaker was out of the habit of using it.

I couldn't see his face, the house was dark inside. I could see the whites of his teeth when he talked and the light blue of his eyes that stared unblinkingly at me.

'N-nothing, Mr. M-moody, Sir' I stuttered, still edging away.

A gnarled hand reached for me from the door way 'What ye be doing 'ere then?'

I jumped to my feet and flew off the veranda, still running when I hit the ground as sure as hell running when I hit it.

Stumbling over tree roots and fallen branches I vaulted over the fence. Panicked and eyes burning I vaulted over the gate and yelled for the others to run.

It surprised me they hadn't already when we all ran pale-faced as fast as our legs could carry us.

We halted panting on our front lawn, Rebecca had been carried by her brother and he set her down gasping for breath.

'Well' Harrypanted cheerfully 'I think you owe me a quid, Jessie'


End file.
